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This week, a poem by Nic Alea.
Too Many Lights in the Corner of My Eyes
The first time I see my grandmother after death
she is not a drinker anymore. That’s what happens after
death she says, the soul goes through rehab, brutal
acceptance of an absent form.
She’s an orb, you know those little circles that get
caught in photographs and everyone thinks it’s some
raindrop or a bit of dust on the lens, it’s not.
She shows me a white washcloth being twisted so
all the liquid spills out, that’s alcohol she says, it was
very painful to see my black outs and cigarette burns,
the couch lighting on fire, your mother and a cup of
water and I’m like,
hm, yeah I think that would be really hard.
What about heaven though? I ask.
those gates made out of tiny oyster shells glistening.
She rolls her eyes, it’s vibrations she says, you ever
heard of music? It’s complicated like that, but more
simple than time.
NIC ALEA is a poet with a BA in Creative Writing and work featured in Muzzle Magazine, Write Bloody, the Paris American, decomP and others. They are a Lambda Literary Fellow and have performed twice at the National Queer Arts Festival. They are currently working on their first full length poetry collection exploring mental health, phobias, and birth/death cycles. Find more at nicaleawrites.com.